Steady Memories
by all.out.carby
Summary: Amnesia for Abby. This one should remain angst-free. (Phew!) OOC - you've been warned. Chapter 3 up.
1. Prologue

And here we go again. Another fic. This one is written from Abby's point of view in first person, but it won't stay that way. Just the prologue. ;)   
  
*Know this:* After reading this fic, you may lose all respect for me. (If you ever had any, really...)  
  
--  
- Prologue -  
--  
  
I was already awake, but I was half asleep. There was a gust of wind that burst through the open window easily, sending those familiar shivers down my skin. I don't know why I had even left the window open in the first place. Winter in Chicago certainly isn't the most pleasant time to do that. I should know; I've lived here for a while now.   
  
In this same old apartment, slept in this same old bed. Makes me smile a bit to see how far I've come. I don't focus on the crap side of it. At least not tonight I won't. I don't feel like it at all. A warm comforter and a closed window should do the trick.  
  
A closed window. I'm lying here in bed now, staring at it, and feeling every sharp breeze that hits my bare arms. I shake myself from a dazed state and carry my legs from under to over the mattress. I shiver at the instant strike of the iced atmosphere and draw the window shut.   
  
I pull the curtains to a close also. Maybe that will keep even more of that wind out. Normally, I could sit and gaze at the wintry Chicago scenes. But, glancing now at the clock on my nightstand, I find that its nearly one in the morning. I am lucky enough not to be at County right now anyway on a double. So I try and tuck myself back into the bed's sheets, now even colder than when I left them last.  
  
I try to set it aside. And, sticking to strong stories here, I can't fall asleep. I blink once, twice, and hope that I'll grow tired. Tired as in can't-open-my-eyelids tired, because I'm already exhausted.   
  
Now I'm restless. Restless and unbelievably deadbeat now. I rise from my seemingly frozen rest and start out of my room. I feel like coffee.  
  
When I arrive in the kitchen, the cupboard appears to be drained of decaf coffee grounds. I mumble a "damn it" into the quiet air and reach up to dig through a box on the shelves. Nothing. I won't take the chance of pumping caffeine into my system tonight, will I?  
  
Oh, no. Not tonight. I really need some sleep. I'm exhausted.   
  
Instead of heading back to my room, I seat myself at the table. I pull my purse in front of me, attempting to fall asleep by beginning to go through it. I should clean it out anyway. Gum wrappers, empty checkbooks, one and five dollar bills. Where are the rest? I wonder as I thumb through it.   
  
I litter the table with garbage from my bag. As soon as I'm about to put the past-inspection contents back in, I realize that I have to go to the bathroom. Bodies are odd, I speculate sleepily as I get up.   
  
When I'm done, I walk out of the bathroom with a hand over my eyes. Exhaustion is killing me, it really is. My foot touches water on the floor, from that damn leaking sink. I turn around, slipping on the sharp rotation of my heel and hit the ground face first, my forehead hitting the counter a second before. From my parched lips, a yelp fails.  
  
The world goes black. 


	2. Chapter One

Carter yawned and stared ahead to the board. For a second only, barely glancing at it, before turning around to survey the collection of people around him. There were only a few staff members left on shift tonight. Nurses were plentiful, but the only physicians in sight, and to his recognition, were Deb and Kovac.  
  
He smiled in amusement at the sight of Deb as she was fighting to stay awake over a toddler with a bruised ankle. She nodded toward his mother and walked away, starting a conversation with Haleh.   
  
He yawned again, figuring it not to be the last this evening, and looked to Kovac approaching him.  
  
"We'll be here all night," he mumbled, gesturing toward the wave of patients around them.   
  
Carter laughed. "The board's almost clear," he pointed out.  
  
Luka nodded heavily and turned toward the computer, beginning with an article. "As long as there's no trauma in the next twenty minutes."  
  
Carter chuckled again into his sleeve, stifling a cough. He held a hand to his forehead sleepily and looked onto a chart in his hands. Kid with the flu. Sign here and there, and that's that.  
  
'That's that?' Not so much, he thought as he noticed Haleh scratch another name onto the board.  
  
"More?" he growled sarcastically. "Can't we just tell 'em we're closed?"  
  
Haleh shook her head. "Not so much. Who wants it?"  
  
Luka stood by Carter's side and squinted with him to read the name and problem. "Brown. Projectile vomiting."   
  
"Yours," Carter proclaimed, stepping away from the desk and strutting toward the lounge. He looked back at Kovac. He was standing behind the desk with his arms in the air, smiling accusingly at Carter.  
  
"I'll get you later, Carter," he laughed.  
  
He waved a hand over his head as he continued into the lounge. "Yeah, yeah." His near-sleepwalk brought him in the midst of the lounge, just noticing his own bumping abruptly into the table. He winced and bent down to rub his leg in small pain. "Damn it."  
  
He shook it off and continued over to the couch. It looked as tempting as ever right now. He felt like collapsing into its arms and remaining there for a while. Even on the battered, old leather, tonight there was definitely something inviting about it.  
  
It was a *couch.* A cheap piece of furniture taunting him. He looked back to the door, peering slightly to spot anyone who might be watching him, someone who might rat him out or attempt to bring him back to the world that was ER.  
  
He shook his head, teasing himself by walking by the sofa to the refrigerator, looking inside for a soda. He closed the door, knowing very well that a different beverage could be arranged. A more sufficient beverage.  
  
Coffee, he thought to himself as he reached to the pot. The brown liquid gently rang from the pot to the mug he held. Instantly, he felt how inert the substance inside was. He swished it around, glancing downward to see the coffee again. He didn't feel like chilled coffee, but he didn't care.  
  
He didn't hesitate to add anything to the drink, but swallowed it wholly as it was. The cool could hit his throat and travel down its only cold path, gliding sympathetically. Carter grunted in disgust to himself, previously underestimating the taste and feel of what he had just committed himself to.  
  
He placed the mug back on the surface, the beige counter in front of him. He turned back around and saw the television sitting across from the sofa. It was still calling him.  
  
Perfect. Television and junky couch. What more could a guy ask for?   
  
Nothing, he thought pathetically as he plopped down onto the couch. He sighed a heavy breath of relief and comfort, apart from his long ER duties, and switched on the T.V. He chuckled under his breath as the image of a Bulls game flickered into sight.   
  
Maybe Luka was trying to catch up, he thought with a mere smile in his cheeks. Another yawn overtook him and brought a glance to the watch on his wrist, ticking silently as he grappled with this tug-of-war feeling he had with himself and a drowsiness.   
  
The Bulls game held no appeal now. It hadn't since Jordan left way back when. He lifted his hand to reach for the dials on the television's panel. Where in the hell was the remote? His hand hit the button a few times before he found a old movie channel and gave up on the search.   
  
When the screen no longer held fascination for him, he turned away in mock disgust and lead his eyes to the arm of the couch. He knew sooner or later, he would have to rest his head on it. He probably wouldn't get to go home anyway.  
  
He nodded in covenant with himself and stretched his limbs across the space. He hummed a sweeter tone to the leather around him, savoring the feel and wrapping himself tightly into it. Shuddering under the freshly solaced skin, he let his eyes fall deeper into a steady sleep.  
  
  
--  
  
  
His shoulder was violently shoved aside. His eyes opened, the world slowly coming into form in front of his eyes: the television, the table, the wall. The colors blurred together and brought him back to the lounge. He looked up and saw Deb above him.  
  
"Rise and shine, honey," she mocked.  
  
"What?" Carter asked in response, obliviously in the middle of the room. He reached a hand up to his hair, finding it quite out of shape. He smoothed a hand over it roughly and looked to her.  
  
"We've been down one chief resident for a while," she said, glaring at him with a smile. "And here you are, sleeping in the lounge."  
  
"Oh," he laughed. "Sorry. How long was I out?"  
  
She smirked, glancing at the watch on her wrist by pulling her sleeve up a bit. "Ten minutes."  
  
He groaned and fell back to the couch. "Deb," he whined. "Come on, let me sleep."  
  
"Get up," she chuckled, dragging his arm off of the couch. "Let's go."  
  
He nodded, giving in reluctantly. He felt around the cushions for the stethoscope, and placed it around his neck carefully. It rested on his shoulders as he yawned again. "Are we still swamped?"  
  
"What could have changed in ten minutes?" she laughed.  
  
He shrugged almost motionlessly.  
  
"Are you feeling alright?"  
  
"Yeah," he laughed. "Just tired."  
  
She nodded. "You're lucky Weaver's not here. I let you sleep for ten minutes."  
  
"And I thank you for those precious ten minutes," he said sarcasticaly.  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
"Get out," he said, causing them both to laugh. She started out of the room and stopped in the doorway.   
  
"Happy Valentine's, by the way."  
  
"Oh, that's right." He stood up. "Happy Valentine's, Deb," he added with a childish grin. She smiled back and walked out of the room.  
  
He wondered when Abby would come in.  
  
He shook his head and stepped into the ER's wholesome chaos once again. A gurney, occupied by what looked like a drunk biker, sped in front of him. He jumped back and jokingly saluted Luka, who happened to be taking him elsewhere. Luka nodded back sarcastically.  
  
"Carter!"  
  
He turned another way, finding the source of the voice.   
  
"Doris?"  
  
"Isn't this your girlfriend?"  
  
"Ha, I'm single --" He stopped in his tracks when he saw her on the gurney. Abby.  
  
"What's wrong with her?" he asked, coming closer. He went into a frenzy - checking her for a pulse, putting his wrist to her forehead, searching for a clue of some sort.  
  
"Neighbor found her on the floor," she said. "Looks like she took a fall. Hit her head."  
  
"Intoxicated?" he asked, nervously. He could already tell that it wasn't a possibility.  
  
"Not likely," she smiled. "Just unconscious for now. We got a place to put her?"  
  
Chuny passed them. "Abby?"  
  
"Yeah, she's out of it. What's open?"  
  
"Trauma - take your pick."  
  
He nodded and assisted Doris to the trauma room. He looked onto Abby, lying helplessly on the surface she'd been set on. He brushed a hand over her head, and let it rest on her hair for a second.  
  
  
  
--  
  
  
  
He had been standing for a while next to her bed. So far, Deb hadn't walked in so he assumed the entire staff was letting easy on him. It was odd. He knew that she would probably be fine - all she had really done was been knocked unconscious. He looked on though and realized that he wanted to be there when she woke up.  
  
As if she had read his mind, she began to stir slightly. He beamed and forgot about the hand on her skin.  
  
"Abby?"  
  
She opened her eyes. "Hi," she said. She looked up and around the room. "Where am I?"  
  
"Trauma two," he laughed. "There were no other rooms available. What happened?"  
  
"I don't know." She tried to sit up on her elbows, but winced with dizziness. "Um," she said with her eyes shut, "who are you?"  
  
  
  
  
--  
  
  
  
  
Like I said, you may lose all respect, if you ever had any for me after reading this fic.  
  
Nonetheless, please review, and let me know if I should continue.  
  
-mandy 


	3. Chapter Two

Alright, this story sucks. The plot is a little unbelievable. Not in the incredible sense-now way-but the in the matter of "yeah right, that would never happen." You know what I mean.  
  
It's the only way that this story would work. I'm not about to research legal stuff at this time of the year. I did a little medical research, but at least that's interesting. ;) Like I've said - you might lose any respect for me if you continue reading this. It's a weird story. ;) But, you've been warned - characters are OOC.  
  
--  
  
"Amnesia." He chuckled to himself, almost bitterly and slid his back to the wall.  
  
"It isn't funny," Deb said, crossing her arms. "I would think you, the best friend and potential boyfriend, would know that."  
  
"I didn't say it was funny," he tossed. "And I'm not her 'potential boyfriend,'" Carter added, waving his hands in the air for emphasis.  
  
"Whatever," she answered, edging toward the window of the exam room. She pointed through the pane. "Look at her. Oblivious."  
  
Abby was seated on the bed, her fingers twisting through the air, weaving a story for Susan. The blonde opposite of her giggled, adjusted her cross- legged position on a stool and spoke back. Abby threw her head back and stifled another laugh into two cupped hands.  
  
"I wonder what's so funny," Carter said with a sweet smile.  
  
"She could suffer for days, months, years - "  
  
"I haven't seen her smile, laugh like that in so long," he spoke, coming closer to the glass.  
  
"There could be long-term affects."  
  
"I'm gonna go in there," he laughed. "Say 'hi.'"  
  
Deb sighed and turned on her heel. "You wanna have lunch later or something?"  
  
"Plans with Gamma," he said, mock-excitement filtered. His hand pressed on the door, leading him inside.  
  
"Hey, Dr. Carter," Susan said cheerfully, recovering from a recent fit of chuckling.  
  
"Hi," he nodded. Looking toward Abby, he commented, "How are you?"  
  
Her feet danced slightly under the blanket over her body. "Good, thanks. How long will I have to be here, Dr. Carter?"  
  
"We call him Carter around here," Susan joked, comically sticking a finger into an invisible dimple in his cheek.  
  
He swatted her hand away. "Yeah, yeah." Reddening, he folded his hands on his knee. "You feeling well?"  
  
"Susan's asked me all the health questions already," she winked. Then smiled, "already, *Carter.*"  
  
"And you aren't remembering a thing?"  
  
Abby shook her head. Her hands flew into the air. "Nothing, not a thing." She searched around the room and picked silently at the wool around her. "Not how it happened, when it happened. Not anything."  
  
"But you said before," Susan countered, "that perhaps you were recalling things."  
  
Recognition in the slightest took over her features, her eyes widening and her lips barely separating. "Well," she groaned, "I thought I might remember some stuff. Just little stuff. Tile, for instance."  
  
"Oh," Carter said, shifting. "Bathroom tile, maybe? They found you in the bathroom, they said."  
  
She shrugged, beginning to bite her thumbnail for any memories she could fetch. "I don't know, I don't think so. Something more like tile in general." Her shoulders heaved. "But I don't know."  
  
The entrance of another body shattered the easy feeling of the room. "Susan! We need you!"  
  
"What is it?" she inquired, standing abruptly from her seat, reaching to the left and swinging a stethoscope around her neck.  
  
"Another GSW," Chuny sighed.  
  
"Need me?" Carter asked, as Susan rushed out the door.  
  
"Nope," she said with a satisfied smile. "Feel better, Abby." She ran in another direction, assisting in the clatter down the corridors.  
  
When Carter turned around, he met Abby. Her confused expression, raised eyebrows greeted him. "Chuny," he said. "Another nurse."  
  
"Ah," she said.  
  
The two of them sat enveloped in silence. The faint clicking of a clock somewhere above their heads, and the soft pat of Carter's heel against the tile was the song they witnessed now. She stared ahead, back to her hands quietly. Her fingers rubbing her lips in deep thought, running through her hair in soft boredom.  
  
"Maybe that was it," she whispered.  
  
"Hmm?" he asked, startled by sudden spoken words.  
  
"Maybe that's where I remember the tile from."  
  
"Oh," he nodded. He pulled the chart he clutched down from his chest and skimmed over it with cautious eyes. "Can you piece anything together with the tile? The color, what time it was? Maybe how it happened?"  
  
"You know those things."  
  
"Yes," he said, examining the pen in his hands to keep eyes off of her for an instant. "But I was hoping you might recall some other things."  
  
"It could come back that quick?"  
  
He looked up.  
  
"All the memories."  
  
Eyebrows arched with a faint smile. "There's a chance that they could come back this afternoon. In the next few minutes." He dropped his pen on the floor without thinking as he spoke, reaching down to retrieve it. "But there's a greater chance that you'll regain in the next few days, weeks, months - "  
  
"Years." She sighs.  
  
He stands, lips parted, then takes his seat again. "Years," he iterates, eyes fixed on her face.  
  
She yawned and stretched her arms over the surface of the wool. "You know," she said, hint of laughter in her voice, "it seems almost logical to think that if you were in my place you wouldn't care that much. seeing as you don't know what's going on. You don't know what has gone on before all of this." She laughs, "You don't even know how it happened either."  
  
She straightened her body against the given pillows. "But it sucks." She smiled and chuckled a bit.  
  
"I disagree."  
  
"Oh," she said, "So you think this is fun? You're right. It's a hoot."  
  
He smiled at his knees, gathered at the center. "No," he said. "I meant that. I think that even if you don't know, you'd still like to."  
  
She squinted toward him, adjusting her view and studying his features. "You're right," she confessed, returning to her fingertips, dancing on the blanket.  
  
He laughed aloud.  
  
"What?" she asked.  
  
"Same old Abby."  
  
" 'Same old Abby?' " She giggled, her hushing exhausted. "What is that.?"  
  
" 'It's a hoot.' "  
  
She shook her head slightly, trying to interpret this.  
  
"You're sarcasm." He nodded. "It's still there."  
  
She shrugged. "Maybe it's all coming back."  
  
They caught eyes for a minute, glances mingling in one room. Her hands folded in her lap and her eyes became soft. "Are we friends?"  
  
He fixed his glance on a lock of her hair, a curl in vagrant style. "Yes we are. I consider you my best friend." His voice perked at the term, and he flashed her a smile. A confident smile.  
  
Her cheeks smiled as his began to burn and she shook her head. "Then I really wish I would remember you."  
  
"Call me Carter." He winked with his subtlety.  
  
"I've been told," she said.  
  
"And you've remembered."  
  
"Oh," she said, familiar with her sardonic phrases. "That was a test of some sort wasn't it?" Her finger waved in the air beside her head, perhaps for emphasis she desired.  
  
"Of course." He gathered his materials. "I *am* a doctor."  
  
"And I'm a nurse."  
  
"Yes," he said, slightly jumping. "Did you remember that?"  
  
"No," she said. "Susan told me."  
  
His shoulders dropped, almost sagged, and he started out of the room. "Okay then. Well, you're remembering names now aren't you?"  
  
"It's not like I'm still losing my mind."  
  
He nodded. "Yeah, that's right."  
  
She altered her position once more. "Do I have to stay here until I'm better?"  
  
He stopped his move to the door and eyed the tile. "I'll check."  
  
"Thank you," she said as he stepped out the door. He rushed through the lazy halls and came up to Chen, vigorously tapping her shoulder.  
  
Breathing quietly over the pile of charts, consuming energy no doubt, she rolled her eyes. "What is it?"  
  
"Where's Abby going?"  
  
She looked at his excited expression, shrinking back. "What?"  
  
"Where is she going?" he asked, hands twirling in front of him. "Where is she staying? Where is she required to go? Under whose care?"  
  
Chen folded a sheet of paper backward. "With family."  
  
"With friends?"  
  
"With family."  
  
"She doesn't want to stay here," he said, "and I'm sure she doesn't have any family."  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
"I know," he protested, his voice clinging and capable. "Her mother's. well, she has a health problem."  
  
"Oh, that's right," she sighed. "You know her dad's number?"  
  
Carter's feet found a new state, moving nervously around the floor. "*She* doesn't know her dad's number."  
  
Chen sighed. "You want her to stay with you?"  
  
He shrugged, trying to back away at the most.  
  
"That's kind of sick, Carter."  
  
"Deb, you know that I wouldn't think of it like that." He winded his hands together, up his arms to shelter from any chills. "She doesn't want to stay here."  
  
She held her charts under her arm and paraded off and away, toward Abby's room. He gripped the tool around his neck, there everyday, and chased after her. Stopping in the door way, and ignoring a glare from Chen.  
  
"Who says she's going to trust you, John?" she murmured, under her breath. "How are you Abby?"  
  
"Fine, thanks." She pointed her hands in a peak straight forward. "I'm sorry if I don't remember who you are."  
  
"Jing-Mei Chen," she said extending a hand. He watched the two of them become reacquainted.  
  
--  
  
Turn back and leave now. I highly recommend it.  
  
Or, if you're certain you can handle it, go ahead and drop a review. Constructive criticism, anyone? ;)  
  
-mandy 


	4. Chapter 3

Thanks for all the encouragement to go on with this one. Its hard to find a way around the real world's obstacles to get to my destination with it.  
  
And thanks to Lifehouse's "Spin" for providing me with many thoughts while I was trying to sleep. Thanks so much. Yeah. ;)  
  
Warning: Out of character-ness (umm.) ahead. Extremely, in my opinion. Character-ness is not a word.  
  
--  
  
"That isn't legal, Carter," she said, not bothering to tear her eyes from the chart in front of her. "I swear, every patient I've had today has been a diabetic. Isn't that something -"  
  
He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to dig himself into another gap of his thinking. Every plan so far had failed, and he didn't see any hope of them succeeding eventually.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because you aren't related to her," she said, holding up one finger. Immediately, another finger added to her count. "Two, to her, you're just another doctor."  
  
"But we're like best friends," he said with a cheeky grin.  
  
"Where's your head?" Susan laughed, as she began to the other side of the admin desk to study the board. "She has amnesia, remember?"  
  
"Then you tell her." The woman in front of him turned around, her eyebrow furrowed. "Come on, Susan."  
  
She pointed a finger into her chest. "Doctor, also."  
  
He sighed. "Fine. I'll see you later."  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"To talk to her," he said, his voice lengthening as he walked away from the desk.  
  
"We have patients, Carter," she spoke, the frustration easily read.  
  
He came back to her for an instant, pointing to himself. "Doctor. Going to see patient."  
  
"Get out of here," she laughed with a hard tone, and he sauntered out of the area. "At least take her chart."  
  
He reached for it silently, fixing his eyes on the papers clipped together. Flipping through them, he read the information provided. Most of it he already knew.  
  
"Good afternoon again, Abby," he said, glance still on the chart, as he came through the door. When he looked up, she was exactly as he left her: hands playing mindlessly with the blanket that hid the rest of her body.  
  
"Hi," she said. "Any word on when I can get out of here?"  
  
"Well," he sighed, his voice reasoning immediately, "it looks like you're going to have to stay here until we can find someone to take you in, or until you're of reasonable sense in memory."  
  
"But who knows when that could be?"  
  
"It could be over any span of time," he said apologetically.  
  
She cast her glare across the room, her lips in a light pout as her messy curls danced around her profile. "This sucks."  
  
"Carter, trauma."  
  
As he turned around, the door had already slammed shut as quickly as it had been opened.  
  
"Did you see who that was?" he said with a smile.  
  
She shook her head, her own grin still set. "Nope."  
  
"Okay," he said, coming off of the stool next to her. Gripping her hand for a second, "I'll be back to visit you later, okay?"  
  
She nodded. "Is that mine?" she asked, pointing to the chart.  
  
He searched it dumbly, then answered, "Yeah. Why?"  
  
She shrugged, sticking her bottom lip out for a moment. "Could I see it?"  
  
Carter cleared his throat and figured to himself. "I guess. Why not?" he asked rhetorically, handing her the collection.  
  
"Thanks," she murmured, her fingers instantly reading over the material.  
  
--  
  
"And?"  
  
"And there's still no word from her mother."  
  
"So."  
  
"So, we keep waiting."  
  
"You do remember her mother, don't you?"  
  
Susan shook her head. "Everyone hates their mother. There's no reason for this to be any different."  
  
"Abby's mother is bipolar."  
  
Susan's eyes grew wide with subtle recognition. "Tell me you're kidding."  
  
Carter looked around. "Why would I joke about that?" he asked, with a bit of defense in his tone.  
  
"Oh God," Susan said, putting the phone back on the hook. "Well, why didn't anyone tell me about this?"  
  
"I told Chen," he whispered innocently. "Its not something Abby likes to talk about."  
  
"Well, this is great. And her dad?"  
  
"She doesn't."  
  
Susan caught and nodded, cutting him off. "Right. Well, a sibling?"  
  
"Brother in the Air Force." He had begun to give her all he knew, when another something unfolded to himself.  
  
"Alright. Eric," she spoke. "The Air Force? Oh, this will be easy."  
  
Off of her huffed laughter, he interrupted. "I don't know why I can't just take her home."  
  
"Carter, not again -"  
  
"Well, we've been dating for about two months. I don't understand how its not okay for me to take my girlfriend home."  
  
"What?" Susan asked, almost startling Carter as she whipped around. "You liar."  
  
"What?" he questioned her haunting expression, hoping to keep his acting inline. "What do you mean 'liar'?"  
  
"You aren't dating."  
  
"Says who?"  
  
"You've never said anything about it before."  
  
"She wanted to keep it a secret."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Didn't want it to get in the way of her work."  
  
"I don't believe a single word of this, Carter." She picked up the phone again. "Dialing the Air Force. What's the Air Force's number?"  
  
Carter shrugged. "Try 1-800-Air Force."  
  
"That's the blonde way to try something."  
  
"Well, you've become a blonde."  
  
They were silent for another minute or two while she struggled to pick a standard phone number from the information they had.  
  
"Susan," he said again. "Why would I lie to you?" He was starting to feel a share of guilt somewhere.  
  
"That's what I'm trying to figure out." Susan stared at him hard. "But I guess there's no reason not to believe you. Is there?"  
  
He clasped his hands together. "I don't think so."  
  
She broke a smile. "Okay, fine."  
  
"Great," he said. "I'm going to go talk to her."  
  
"Why didn't you say anything before about being her girlfriend though?" Susan inquired. "I would have let you take her home then, no doubt."  
  
"Same reasons." He walked to the exam room, and sat down on the stool next to Abby's form. She was asleep with the chart at her feet. He watched her, until she began to stir.  
  
"Hi," she said groggily. "How long have you.?"  
  
"Just walked in," he laughed. "Found someone to take you home."  
  
"Thank God," she said with her smile. "Who?"  
  
He froze. "Me."  
  
She bit her lip, raised her brow. "Is there more to this?"  
  
"We've been close friends for a while." He waited for her reaction, and upon not receiving one, he continued. "Really close friends for a long time. Almost two years."  
  
She nodded. "Weird thing is that I actually trust you. You're the only one who has been in here for the last two and a half days. Susan and Chen both say its true."  
  
He agreed.  
  
--  
  
"My apartment?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She searched through the lot ahead of him. "I found my bedroom."  
  
"Do you recognize anything?"  
  
"No," she said, a frown in her voice visible through walls. "Not a single thing."  
  
  
  
--  
  
  
  
I know! Everything happened way too easily for Carter here, Abby probably wouldn't have believed him in a second. But, like I said, way OOC. So I think Em is probably the only one who is going to actually read this. lol (Without that being an insult. You're awesome, Em.)  
  
Thanks for reviewing the last chapters, and please do the same for this one. It was a lot of dialogue, I know. Not my best work. ;)  
  
-mandy 


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